


After Midnight, Before Dawn

by lucycourageous



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Assassin's Creed: Syndicate, Developing Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Older Jacob Frye, Post-Canon, Sharing a Bed, Slice of Life, i'm not gonna say wife cause i don't see them necessarily getting married, jacob and the mother of his child, very minor relationship angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 11:15:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28669839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucycourageous/pseuds/lucycourageous
Summary: Jacob Frye needs a place to stay for the night - luckily, he has a friend who might be able to assist.Or: a tender moment between Jacob and the woman who will be the mother of his child.
Relationships: Jacob Frye/Jacob Frye's Wife, Jacob Frye/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	After Midnight, Before Dawn

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: the title of this fic is blatantly stolen from a play which I performed in once, called (funnily enough) After Midnight, Before Dawn. It is about witch trials, and not at all about cute bed-sharing scenes.

It was the faintest of sounds, the barest whisper of a bootheel against the outer wall of her room, but it instantly roused the Assassin from her sleep. She opened her eyes, her hand tightening instinctively on the handle of the small blade she kept tucked under her pillow.

She waited. There was a moment of silence, but it was a silence that was full of intent – the silence of someone waiting to make sure that they were unobserved. Then there came the faint scrape of her bedroom window being eased upwards. 

_Alright then,_ she thought.

The Assassin lay perfectly still, her muscles tensed, listening as the intruder slipped through the open window and moved stealthily across the floor. 

If this was a Templar attack, she was impressed; their hired killers weren’t normally so careful. 

Then her would-be murderer stumbled on a bit of uneven floor, smacked their shin on the trunk at the end of her bed and doubled over with a curse. 

The Assassin rolled her eyes. She knew that voice. 

“Graceful as ever, Jacob, darling.” 

“Yes, thank you.” 

Yes, that was Jacob Frye. The only other person capable of imbuing just three syllables with that much sarcasm was his twin sister, Evie, and she wasn’t in the habit of climbing in through the Assassin’s window.

She tucked her dagger away and reached for the lamp on the table beside her bed instead. In the soft light of the flickering flame, she studied her erstwhile lover curiously as he straightened up. 

“I wasn’t expecting you tonight. You’re lucky I didn’t attack you as soon as I heard you opening the window.” 

He pulled his hood back and sat down on the end of her bed, reaching back to rub stiffly at one shoulder. He looked tired, and she was surprised by how much her heart ached to see it. 

“I know, I’m sorry. The job I was on took longer than expected and Ned took the train for a jaunt without asking me, the little weasel. So I was hoping…well…”

She raised her eyebrows, “Yes?” 

“Could I stay here the rest of the night? Just to sleep.” 

The Assassin paused, taken by surprise. That was an unusual request. 

She and Jacob had first started having sex with each other about a year ago, after one particularly successful mission. Even high on adrenaline and triumph, there’d been no mistaking the particular glint in Jacob’s eye when he’d asked her if she’d like to join him on the train for a celebratory drink. She, of course, was too proud to admit even to herself that she’d been wanting to bed him for months, so it was with a certain air of diffidence that she’d accepted his invitation – but she did accept. 

It had been an enjoyable night to say the least, and after that it became something that they just did sometimes, alongside their shared work as members of the London Brotherhood. Together, the two of them eliminated Templars and undermined their business interests, worked to educate and otherwise liberate the people of London – and occasionally, when they needed to blow off steam or simply when they wanted to, they fucked each other. 

(Well. Maybe ‘occasionally’ wasn’t the right descriptor anymore. Maybe these days ‘regularly’ would be more appropriate.) 

It worked well. _They_ worked well – as Assassins and as lovers, in the carnal sense at least. 

One thing they didn’t do, had never done, in fact, was fall asleep together after sex. She couldn’t say exactly why, since they’d never actually spoken about it, but it was just the way it was: after each encounter one of them would always depart immediately, regardless of whether it was just after midnight or minutes until dawn. And if either of them felt a twinge of regret to see the other go, neither had ever said anything. 

But now here he was, in defiance of the unspoken rules they’d set out for themselves, asking to share her bed for the night. 

“I can go elsewhere if you’d rather not,” he said, and despite the sudden nerves that had sprung up in her stomach, she couldn’t help smiling to herself – she’d never heard the indomitable Jacob Frye so awkward before, “I’m sure Clara knows somewhere I could-”

“Don’t be an idiot, Frye,” she interrupted, “anywhere Clara sends you will cost you, either in coin or the time it’d take you to get rid of the lice. You can stay here.” And before she could give herself the time to doubt her decision, she tossed back the covers on the empty side of the bed. 

Jacob’s relief was palpable, and she noticed again the fatigue in his eyes and the curve of his spine, “Thank you.” 

She lay back down, pretending not to watch him as he stood up to undress. It was a long process, peeling back the many layers that protected him, and though she’d seen him completely naked multiple times, somehow this felt far more intimate, more vulnerable. 

He set his gauntlet carefully on the floor within easy reach should he need it, and then with nothing else left to do, he climbed into the bed next to her. 

The Assassin held her breath, staring determinedly at the ceiling as the mattress creaked and dipped underneath his weight. He kept a respectful distance between them, evidently as aware as she was that this was unfamiliar ground for them – but even without touching him she could feel the warmth coming off his bare chest, flooding her bed with heat. 

“Thank you,” he mumbled again as he rolled onto his side to press his face into the pillow, and it was both a shock and a pleasure to hear his voice coming from so close beside her. 

“You’re welcome.” The response was born out of instinct more than anything, but she regretted it almost instantly – there was a strange tenor to her voice, something wavering and unsure. She hated feeling uncertain, _appearing_ uncertain even more so. She hoped that Jacob hadn’t heard it. 

Her face felt hot. Was she…blushing? Hastily, she extinguished the lamp, not wanting him to see – but somehow, that only made things worse. Though the darkness hid her uncharacteristic embarrassment from him, it also seemed to make her more aware than ever of his presence: she couldn’t help noticing the rise and fall of his breathing, the rustle of the blankets when he moved, the warm, familiar scent of his body. 

All of a sudden, she wanted desperately to touch him. The desire wasn’t sexual, but she almost wished it were – at least that she could understand. But this…it was like every tender thought she’d ever had about Jacob was coming back to haunt her all at once: every time she’d ever idly wished to brush his hair out of his eyes or press a kiss to his cheek, or even just hold his hand. 

She squeezed her eyes shut and turned away from him, tucking her hands firmly under her pillow. 

_This is why we don’t do this…_

Jacob fell asleep quickly, but that wasn’t very surprising. She knew from several of their missions together that he was one of those people who could sleep anywhere, no matter the circumstance. Normally, she would have said the same was true of her, but not tonight it seemed. Tonight she was tormented by restless thoughts of the man beside her, wondering what this might mean for them, if it meant anything at all. Would their relationship change now? Did she want it to?

She didn’t remember falling asleep, but she knew that she must have, if only because the next thing she remembered was waking to find herself curled up against Jacob’s side, her face pressed into his neck. It was dark still, but the faint piping of birds outside her window suggested that dawn wasn’t far off. 

Groggy and confused, she stared at her own hand where it lay, splayed casually over the tattoo of the falcon on his chest. He was holding her to him even in his sleep, one arm tucked around her shoulders, his hand half-tangled in her hair. It felt...good. Comfortable.

Then he shifted a little in his sleep, bumping her chin with his shoulder, and she froze at once, desperately willing him not to wake up - because if he did, they’d probably have to discuss the fact that they had somehow, in the course of the night, managed to wrap themselves around each other like a couple of overtired puppies, and that was a conversation she would really rather avoid for the time being. 

Unfortunately, for all that he fell asleep easily, Jacob was, like most Assassins, a light sleeper. 

Disturbed by her sudden stiffness, he began to stir next to her, the pattern of his breathing changing subtly as he woke. Cursing herself, she forced her body to relax, feigning sleep: she may have missed her chance to sneak away before he woke, but she could at least offer him the same opportunity if he wanted it. 

She was careful not to focus too hard on what he was doing – if she did, he would spot her attentiveness in an instant and know she was awake – but even in her artful half-doze, she couldn’t miss the rustle as he turned his head on the pillow to look at her, or the faint sigh that ghosted across her face. 

What kind of sigh was that? A sigh of regret? Longing? Happiness? She couldn’t tell without looking at him and it made her want to grind her teeth in frustration. This was ridiculous, she was acting like a child. She should just open her eyes and-

Jacob’s hand closed over hers where it rested above his heart and suddenly her breath seemed to catch like a burr in her throat and it was all she could do to keep her body soft, her expression relaxed. In an unexpected storm of agony, she waited, suddenly afraid that he really would just slide her hand off his chest and slip from her bed, leaving her alone once more. 

But he didn’t; if anything, she thought she felt his hand tighten around hers in a soft momentary squeeze, cradling her palm close to him like it was something precious, something he didn't want to let go of. Gradually, after what felt like a lifetime, she felt his heartbeat steady, heard his breathing even out, and knew he was asleep once more. 

The Assassin let out a little sigh of her own and opened her eyes to look at his sleeping face. It was strange to see him so unguarded and vulnerable, but it was...nice too. She found herself thinking that she wouldn’t mind doing this, letting him stay over, again - if the situation ever arose, of course.

_You could always just ask him to stay, you know._

Abruptly embarrassed, she brushed the thought aside. She wasn’t looking for more than what she and Jacob already had, didn’t want to ruin something that suited them both perfectly well. But all the same... With another soft sigh, she nestled a little closer to him, grateful for the unjudging darkness of her room. They still had an hour or so until dawn, after all. It would be a shame to waste it.

**Author's Note:**

> So I haven't named Jacob's lover in this fic, but I personally like the name Grace Edwards for her. If I write more about her, that's probably what I'll end up calling her.
> 
> Quick note: so I realised retroactively that in order for the timelines to work, Jacob has to father his kid pretty soon after the events of the main game in order for them to be old enough for Lydia to be conceived and born in 1893. Soo he’s probably not that much older than he is in AC: Syndicate here, but let’s say he’s done some growing up emotionally in that time 😛
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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